The Fifth Circle by Tricia Drammeh Read Free Book Online Page B

finances. After all, I was eighteen and had never worked a day in my life. I began to worry. I had nothing to offer someone like Alex —nothing to offer anybody.
    Together, Alex and I made dinner. She chopped vegetables while I browned ground beef. Occasionally, our hands brushed. Cooking had never seemed so appealing. I wanted to perform such domestic tasks with her the rest of my life. I wanted to marry her, but it was probably too soon to bring up the subject. 
    I laughed with Alex and my mom over dinner. Alex seemed relaxed in my house, like she belonged there. I never wanted her to leave. Though I enjoyed our time together, my body felt tense from the pent-up sexual energy which I had been unable to release. I wondered how long her time of the month would last.
    As she kissed me goodbye, I felt unfulfilled and inexplicably angry—empty, desolate. Returning to my room, my eyes fell on the cold, lonely bed—a bed which had seen no action that day. An old, familiar feeling of tension bubbled to the surface. I wanted to hit something, or someone . It was a feeling the antidepressants had never been able to vanquish. Nothing could.
    When I was thirteen, I started getting in fights. I’d always been made fun of, but until the eighth grade, I never defended myself. Then the wrath came. If someone called me a name, or knocked books out of my hands, or any of the other stupid crap bullies like to do, I lost it. I always ended up getting my ass kicked, but I couldn’t help myself. Once the rage took hold, my fists flew at anyone who stood in my way. After a couple of suspensions from school and an arrest, Family Court ordered me to take an anger management class.
    The classes were held every Thursday at the Juvenile Detention Center. Each week, we covered a different topic: peer pressure, drug abuse, self-esteem, and overcoming impulsive behaviors. The counselor taught me to count to ten, to think about the consequences before I acted, to envision myself making a positive choice. He didn’t understand the rage.
    My rage was a monster that lived inside me. When I was able to sleep, it was like the proverbial music that soothed the savage beast. On sleeping days, he was calm, docile, a lap dog. But, on those nights I couldn’t sleep—nights which turned into weeks—the monster was a pit-bull who jumped his backyard fence and attacked the neighbor who gave him a treat just days before. The monster was unpredictable, striking out without prejudice or provocation.
    I could feel the monster awakening once again. He pawed and stretched, and paced the perimeter of his cage. With a sudden leap, he gnashed at the bars of his prison. I counted to ten, but that never worked, and the anger still pulsed inside me.
    So, I did the only thing that had ever helped. I logged on to my computer and pulled up OwlBane. It wasn’t as good as Tales of Andrometis, but it was an outlet. I clicked the weapons button and traded my bow and arrow for a knife. I needed something personal, a weapon of passion.
    I’d played OwlBane nearly every day, but not seriously. Not since Alex gave herself to me. Wielding my dagger, I slashed troll after troll, severing limbs and decapitating with abandon. Breathing heavily, I cleared the field of any living being and ran toward my kingdom.
    Mordios was in horrible shape. Ares’ tower had been sacked yet again and his fields were scorched. It was time to come to terms with the fact that I could not defend my kingdom on my own. It was time to form alliances. It would be difficult, if not impossible, to find someone right away. Ideally, I would need to find more than one person to connect with. 
    I was still fairly new to the game and had yet to really prove myself. I decided to put out a few feelers, send a few emails, before hitting the sack. It shouldn’t take more than a couple of hours, I figured. I was wrong. Surprisingly, I received some immediate replies and this necessitated my response. I emailed back